Why the Traitor?
by ScribeofHeroes
Summary: Can a traitor be trusted to be a King?
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own either the Chronicles of Narnia books or Movies or any of their characters or the locations the stories take place in.**

**I am a Christian and this story has definite religious allusions.**

**Specifically written with the Movie in mind, but it could probably fit into the book universe as well, if the bookverse had Oreius in it.**

Atop a hill overlooking his camp, Aslan was watching his family. Many were laughing who had before had only giggle behind locked doors. Others were making plans who had never hoped before. A few sparred together who had never felt brave enough for battle. Embers of faith, long cooled by doubt, now burned within the hearts of his Father's children.

Hoof-beats thudded in the soft earth behind the Great Lion. "Come forth Oreius, and tell me what troubles you."

Aslan turned to glance over his shoulder. There, arms crossed over his chest and eyes studying his front hoofs, stood Oreius. At Aslan's words, the general's head snapped up. He bowed deeply at the waist and replied, "My King?"

Aslan only smiled in response, until Oreius did as he had asked. The centaur walked forward until his hooves were one stride from the Aslan's paws. The Lion gazed warmly up into the stiff face of the towering warrior. Oreius continued to study his front hooves. His brow was furrowed and jaw was set, as if he was considering a question of life and death. Finally, the centaur met Aslan's gaze.

"Why the traitor, My Lord?"

The Great Lion gave one, slow nod of his golden head. "You are troubled by his being among those who are to fill the four thrones of Cair Paravel?"

The centaur's next words were of stone. "He betrayed us, my King. He was easily seduced by evil's promises. Can such a one rule?"

Aslan's gaze left the centaur and looked toward the opposite edge of camp. Oreius turned to follow it. The four humans were eating breakfast. One in particular ate with great zeal. Pale, bony hands shook slightly as the youngest son of Adam stuffed a whole piece of toast into his mouth. While he chewed, he smiled at something his youngest sister said.

Oreius turned his gaze back to the Lion, once again staring at his hooves instead of into the golden face. Aslan's golden eyes studied the normally faith-filled centaur. This child of His Father had always prided himself on never giving into either the despair or temptations of the White Witch. He had remained faithful while watching many of his countrymen fall in death or denial. Like many of his father's children, who strictly forbade themselves from straying off the straight and narrow path, Oreius had little understanding or trust for those who had not. He needed an explanation that related to something the warrior could already see and feel.

"Do you see this land, dear one?"

Oreius' head jerked up. Seeing the solemn expression is the Lion's eyes, Oreius studied their surroundings. The wind blew through Aslan's mane also bending the tall, pale-green grass and stretching out the standards flying over the red and white pavilions. The newly awakened trees reveled in the breeze as well. Their branches were no longer bare, but covered in dark green leaves that rustled to each other, speaking for the first time in a hundred years. The wind itself came from the sea that lapped upon warm sands, unfrozen at last. There was no ice in sight.

He lowered his head and voice in respect. "Yes, oh my highest above all Kings, save your exalted father. I can see this sweet land you have come back to reclaim."

"Is it still winter, my son?"

Oreius' brows furrowed as the eyes beneath them were blank with confusion. "No, my King. The land and air is warm with the glorious and much longed for spring."

"Why do you think it is so, after a hundred years of winter, which bound my sweet land to the witch's power?"

Confusion no longer clouded the centaur's eyes. "Because you have made it so, My Lord."

Aslan smiled up at him, and then turned to look at the traitor again. "Can I not then make this boy, whose heart was bound with the ice of jealously and evil longings, likewise?"

Oreius did not respond, so Aslan continued. "He was ensnared by the witch. Then he called out to me. I could not have helped him otherwise. My father and I do not conquer, heal, or make whole unwilling hearts, for that would not be love. We never refuse the call of a willing heart. That also would not be love. As he continues to call out to us, My Father and I will fill this son of Adam with strength, wisdom, and love. As he grows in all of these things, he will become a King long remembered for serving both Narnia and his higher Kings, with all he had to give them. Your own heart will be filled with gratitude for the honor of serving such a King, under my Father, Myself, and his brother. Can you believe this Oreius?"

A new light shone in the centaur's eyes. A stronger faith burned in his heart. Oreius replied, as Aslan continued to stare up into them with his golden ones, warm and glorious as the sun. "Yes, my Lord. I believe You are the great restorer of all things, of lands, and children, and Kings."


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own Narnia, much as I would like to. Nor do I own the four, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie, or Oreius the centaur. I made up Saphyra, Strong-coils, Coal-wing, and the unnamed characters. **

**While the last chapter was close-third person Aslan's POV, this one is close third person Oreius. The plot and outline I knew for a long time, but I did not want to write or post this part until I had details, which were slow to come. Here it is at last. **

"No!"

The shout echoed off the stone walls of the cave. His front hooves came down closer to the edge of the abyss stretched between them. The snake twisted further around Saphyra's throat. The centauress flinched. Her eyes squeezed shut. Tears streamed down dusky cheeks. His teeth clenched at the sight.

The witch grinned at him. Pleasure shone from her black eyes and pale face. Such features would have been beautiful had their expression not been so cruel.

"Just tell me where your kings have camped, general, and I will let your sister go."

His head snapped around to look at the one determined to become the next Jadis. The hands at his sides clenched into fists. His front hoof stamped.

"No. You will not. You will make me traitor to my kings and kill her anyway."

The witch's smile widened. Her laughter rippled throughout the stone chamber.

"Now, why would I do that?" The voice softened. "And if I would, why should it make a difference? Would you rather I kill her quickly, or just keep doing this . . . on and on and on . . ."

The snake uncoiled slightly, letting the victim drag in a breath. Then the serpent's loops tightening again. A smothered cry broke from Saphyra.

Oreius clenched his teeth. If his sword could reach any of them . . . But the blade was not for throwing. Why had he not brought more weapons?

Because Saphyra always laughed at him for being a moving arsenal even on family visits . . . like this should have been. He had meant to jest with her about not doing so this time. And now . . . Now he could not even give his life to make a difference.

If he jumped and killed himself without giving the information, the witch would take it out on Saphyra. Jadis had always been like that. He doubted not this enchantress would be the same.

Her prisoner's face was turning red. Muscles bulged in the centauress' arms and waist as she tensed in the boa's coils. He swallowed at the sight.

Saphyra . . . She was such a strong mare now, but it was a strange thought. He could not think of her as anything but the filly their father had left in his care.

_Stay loyal to Narnia, and to Aslan, my son, no matter what tempts your heart or makes you fear. And take care of your sister. Guard her well. _

Those had been his father's final words to him, before leaving for his final battle. Oreius' eyes squeezed shut as the greatest duties of his life collided. What could he do? What could he do? His eyes snapped open and fist slammed into his chest. He shouted across the breach.

"Take me! Torment me for the information! I am the one who knows it!"

The witch lifted an eyebrow.

"Isn't that what I am doing?"

The snake tightened his hold further still. The anguish pouring from Saphyra's face flowed through him. It swept his strength away like a wave disintegrating a sand fortress. The four had taught him to build such things on the eastern shore. Pain creased his face. Either Saphyra or the children who were like his own, as well as Narnia's sovereigns crowned of Aslan? Not to mention the lives of their soldiers, all friends, and then there was the grief of their families.

The witch scowled. She raised her hand. The snake released a bit. Saphyra slumped in relief. He slumped with her. Then his sister opened an eye and looked at him. The pride and determination in her gaze gave him a surge of pride even as it broke his heart. The centauress' message was clear.

_Don't tell . . ._

The witch's fair face furrowed in anger. She sneered across the cavern.

"What kind of brother are you?"

The enchantress turned and strode to her servant and captive. On the way, a white hand pulled free a knife from her belt. The blade flashed forward. Instead of going for the chest, the sorceress jabbed the point into Saphyra's side. His sister flinched away as the point pricked her over the kidney.

A cry broke from him. He reared. His form pitched forward nearly toppling into the chasm. His hooves stepped back. He swallowed. His chest heaved. The witch turned her face. The gaze of her cold eyes met his.

"Speak fool!"

His lips pressed together. The witch twisted the blade. A trickle of blood ran down the dark skin. Saphyra gave a smothered squeal.

"They are encamped in the Shuddering Woods!"

The witch raised an eyebrow again. She frowned. Chill eyes dripped with disgust.

"Truly, in that small place?"

The blade point disappeared into the skin. Saphyra raised her face to the ceiling and silently screamed. Terror ripped through his chest and burst out his throat.

"It is a small force!"

The moment he spoke, his eyes widened. The lips beneath them parted. Horror deadened all his senses. The hand he had reached, lowered by increments back to his side.

Both his sister's eyes cracked open to gaze at him reproachfully. He turned his own stare away. He only felt the witch's upon him. The enchantress withdrew the blade and stood.

"Well . . ." She tilted her head and smirked as she cleaned the knife on her skirt and returned it to its place. "A small force. This should be easy then. Come Strong-coils."

The enchantress turned and walked down the stone hallway. The snake unwrapped itself and became to slither after her. A hiss echoed off the walls.

"Yes, mistress."

Saphyra was too busy gasping to even stand up, let alone give chase. He raised hopeless eyes to her. The abductors had caved in the entrance he had used as he tracked them. Whatever means they had used to cross the divide had been tossed into it. They would likely entrap Saphyra on her side as they had him on his.

No warning . . . His kings and army would have no warning. They would be wiped out. And the queens . . . They would suffer . . . while he and Saphyra thirsted and starved to death here unable to even reach each other for comfort, if she would even accept such from him. Oreius trembled and shook his head.

_How have I done this?_

The sorceress and serpent passed through a narrowing of the corridor. As they did, a blade flashed out from behind the left wall. It swept through the witch's neck. Her head went flying as her servant raised his head to strike. The sword plunged into the snake's open jaws. The point came out the back of the head, before the blade pulled back and disappeared behind the stone wall again.

The constrictor thrashed. The death throes and hisses of the serpent went on for a full minute. Finally, the body and hissing stilled.

Oreius' gaze rose to watch the wall from behind which deliverance had come. His sister turned to do the same. Their avenger stepped out into the torchlight.

He froze at the sight of the figure's face. His sister stood to her hooves and bowed. The Just's gaze dark eyes filled with sorrow as they stared into his own.

. . .

"And thus, hearing the accused's shouts. I used them to navigate my way through the cave tunnels."

"And did you, my lord, hear the accused, General Oreius, give Narnia's declared enemies information that would aide them in doing our beloved kingdom, soldiers, and sovereign's harm?"

The head bowed beneath its silver crown.

"I did. And I almost wish I had been either too far away to so clearly hear his words . . ." The Just raised his gaze. There was apology in the Son of Adam's eyes. "Or nearer, to interfere before he spoke them."

A sigh almost escaped Oreius. He wanted to shake his head. But no, the truth must simply be communicated through his gaze. His king had come in time, had rescued Saphyra and himself, and stopped the witch's attack on their forces before it began. His crime was the fault of none but himself. "The Just" would soon see this and find peace.

The talking Raven slightly unfurling his wings while sweeping his beak down even with his feet.

"Thank you, your highness. I have no more questions for your majesty."

Edmund nodded to Coal-wing. The king rose from the witness chair. Meanwhile, the judge rose back to his full height, beat his wings, and glided back to his perch set in the center of the judgment hall. Behind him, The Just walked back to the throne between those of the queens'.

Oreius noted The Valiant's face. Her eyes were now even redder from crying. The skin was dark pink, especially in her cheeks. His centaur ears swiveled forward and caught the shuddering breath she gave.

Susan had to withdraw her arm and the hand she had placed over Lucy's to let Edmund sit down between them. However, The Just's long fingers wrapped around Lucy's and gave them a squeeze. Susan looked back to her brothers' betrayer. Her own face was streaked with tears. Two, pink spots burned in the pearl-white skin over the crest of her cheekbones. To her left, Peter sat like a stone statue. However, the green tinge of his skin betrayed that, if The High King did move, The Magnificent would throw up. Oreius' attention was drawn back to his judge. The Raven was resting his case in a high, croaking voice.

"And so you have heard the testimony of our trusted king and the accused's own sister. The charge of treachery against Narnia, her troops, and her sovereigns, stands and sticks to this person, the once most trusted citizen of Narnia, our own general Oreius."

From the corner of an eye, he could see Saphyra was keeping her own gaze on the floor. There was some comfort in her being not only alive, but declared entirely innocent. Of course, she would still be stained in the eyes of many. To have a disgraced brother . . . He would have done her less wrong to let her die. His heart had known it, always known it.

His head felt heavy, so he allowed it to bow. His eyes copied the centauress'. The floor alone was the proper place for a traitor's gaze. Everywhere else he might look, was the face of one he had betrayed. All around stood the soldiers and their families, those he had put in danger of death or of losing a loved one to death. His skin burned from the indignation of their stares. His right, front hoof longed to paw at the marble floor. His whole form was a hairsbreadth of control from trembling.

His head snapped back up. His judge was declaring the verdict. Never had it been in doubt, but he listened anyway.

"I myself, having no personal investment in this case, other than that which any true Narnian would have, being of sound faculties, thoroughly versed in Narnian law, and appointed as judge in this case by their majesties, declare Oreius, once General of Narnia's armies, guilty of treachery under gross duress. I shall now leave the appointment of his punishment in the hands of their highnesses."

The raven lifted his wings and flew up to a viewpoint in the rafters. Silence fell over the hall except for Queen Lucy's sobs. They had grown louder.

His ears pricked forward. Once more, he almost let himself sigh. The small-sized and great-hearted Valiant was crying for him. Yet, he did not allow her concern to soften his heart towards himself. She would have cried all the more over the fallen bodies of the soldiers and her brothers had his treachery had had its intended effect. The Just raised Lucy's hand, gave it another squeeze, and kissed the back of it with a whispered word. Then the king looked towards Oreius while rising from the third throne. Oreius cast his own gaze back down.

He only heard the King's soft footsteps. They stopped two strides from his own hooves. The voice that broke through his thoughts sounded almost light, as though the speaker teased.

"Well Oreius, have you nothing else to say before we four must come to our decision?"

Irritation stirred in his gut. How could The Just take this situation so lightly? Then he remembered his right to correct the monarchs for such things was gone. Guilt crushed the irritation in his middle leaving it feeling only heavy and empty.

"No, my King."

The lightness in his king's voice evaporated. The tone turned low and soft instead.

"Do you not wish to ask for mercy, my subject?"

Oreius shook his head.

"No, your highness."

The next word was chocked as well as soft.

"Why?"

Oreius drew in a deep breath and looked up to meet his king's gaze. The sovereign's dark eyes shone, liquid and comforting in appearance, like hot coffee in white mugs. He found he had to swallow before speaking.

"I gave your position away, as well as that of your brother, and soldiers, who trusted in me. What right had I to save my sister's life and spare her suffering at the expense of so many others' lives and sufferings? Neither the circumstances of the betrayal, nor my former position should call forth leniency from your majesties. If you show me preference, others may grow bold. A citizen must be held accountable for crimes against his own country, a soldier should be held doubly accountable, triply should one of high rank be held accountable. Give me the full penalty for my crimes. I have no plea."

His lowered his gaze again, until the chin nearly touched the chest. Then he shut his eyes.

"There is only one sentence for a traitor. And I am ready to accept it."

A heartbeat of silence echoed through the chamber. Then The Just's voice rose again. There was a superb calm in its tone.

"Then . . . so am I."

The statement froze Oreius. Before he could move, a chime of metal hitting marble filled the room. His eyes snapped open. A circlet of silver leaves lay on the floor. He raised his gaze. Two pale hands were poised over the crown. These snapped to the king's sides. The Just, bare-headed, stepped to his side and turned to face the thrones. The other monarchs sprang to their feet. The golden-haired king, silent until now, shouted to them across the near yard of space.

"Edmund! What in Narnia do you think you're doing?!"

The Son of Adam's eyebrows rose. His reply sounded grave, but the undertone of innocent surprise told Oreius The Just knew how amazing his actions were. The centaur had learned how to tell when the younger king was making a joke. He thought this one in poor taste. As he continued to listen, however, the soldier's heart went still. The King filled the room with his words.

"My actions are simply explained, your highness. I too disclosed your position, along with that of not just a battalion of Narnia's army, but the whole of it. I betrayed all their families, and our sisters as well. I told a more dangerous witch where you and they were encamped. In fact, I betrayed all of Narnia and Aslan himself. Am I thus any less worthy of death?"

Lucy's shrill voice pierced his ears.

"But Aslan saved you! He set you free from the deep magic by paying for your betrayal Himself!"

Edmund's eyebrows rose along with his voice's volume.

"Only mine? The Great Lion told me He fulfilled the deep magic so completely, all traitors born in this world or who come into it from another, can be forgiven and renewed through Him."

Edmund now looked up into his face. His king took his larger, slack hand in his own and squeezed it. The gaze of the dark eyes held his.

"Aslan's sacrifice made possible something else, my 'once general.' Since The Great Lion can forgive others, so can we. Even ourselves." The king turned away. The Just's beardless chin rose into the air. His proclamation echoed from the floor, walls, and ceiling like a cymbal's reverberation. "I now declare, as one of the wronged, and as a king of Narnia, that I forgive Oreius his betrayal of me, my soldiers, and my kin. Will any join me?"

The Valiant's red face grinned. She hopped, clapped, and laughed out loud.

"I do! I do!"

The Gentle rose from her throne and took a step forward. She beamed at him through shining tears. Her voice came forth a coo.

"So do I."

Peter strode across the space between them, reached up a hand to squeeze his shoulder, and smiled into his face.

"You have my pardon as well, general."

A boar snorted.

"I wasn't happy about our position being given the away, but I would still rather follow Oreius into battle, over some others. I won't press charges, so long as it doesn't happen again."

A Talking-mare stepped forward and raised her chestnut head and brown eyes to him.

"I was right mad on my way to this trial. My colt, not myself, was in the battalion the general betrayed." The horse then lowered her head. "But I had not heard of them using his sister against him before I arrived. If they had used my colt in a similar fashion to break me . . . well, let us just say I would hope the Four would have like mercy upon me. Aslan would have to give me strength indeed, to do any better than the centaur."

A satyr raised his hand and knelt down on one knee before the four.

"I was in the battalion, but I would not have been had the general not stepped in the way of a ghoul sweeping down on me. I also, wish to keep following him into battle." The soldier looked into his eyes and nodded. "I forgive you general."

Other soldiers he had saved in battle called out. So, did those he had trained since they were flabby, new recruits. Their family members spoke of how they might have done the same under the circumstances, and how they still trusted him to bring their soldiers home again. Those who had seemed angry before now sniffed with tears clouding their eyes. In the end, not one of his soldiers did not speak. Nor did any members of their family stay silent, or condemn him.

Edmund half-grinned at his citizens, nodded his head and turned back to him.

"Well, that only leaves one then. Do you forgive the traitor of your soldiers and kings, general?"

But he could not reply. His throat was too tight. His chest had not enough breath, his sobs had stolen it all. In the end, his strength gave out and he fell to his knees. Then a Light poured over him from the east and he raised his head. He drew in a great breath and nodded towards the source of the glow that strengthened him enough to speak.

"I will, if He also proclaims the traitor forgiven in his eyes as well."

All other eyes had already turned and ever head and knee had been bowed. For Aslan stood before them between Susan and Edmund's thrones. He was smiling upon them all. His voice rose, like a roar, like the sound of a trumpet, it must have filled the hall and the whole castle besides.

"So let it be! I declare Oreius, general of Narnia, forgiven in my sight and the eyes of all he wronged that day." He then looked upon them all again and lowered his voice to a near purr. "Well done, my children."

However, the next words echoed only in his mind and heart.

_This . . . is why the traitor._

He could only smile in reply.

**Reviews are much appreciated and often responded to. **

**God Bless**

**ScribeofHeroes**


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own Narnia, Archenland, Anvard, Telmar, Jadis, Oreius, Peter Pevensie, Susan Pevensie, Edmund Pevensie, Lucy Pevensie, King Lune, Prince Cor, Prince Corin, Princess Aravis, or Prince Ram. I did create Chatter-teeth, Storm-hoof, Oreius' sister Saphyra, and Sarah of Archenland.**

**This chapter is not going to end as neatly as the first two chapters. While the other chapters are third person, this chapter is written in the first-person perspective of Oreius.**

**This chapter is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained.**

Orange dust billowed up as we clomped through Anvard's gates. Skin-clad skeletons of Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve lined our path. They clapped and cheered with more energy than one believed it possible for them to have. I had only seen bonier creatures in the days of The White Witch, when she starved those who displeased her.

We came to the gates of the castle. The royal family stood in their doorway to greet us. I had seen from a distance they were even bonier than their subjects. King Lune's hollow eyes twinkled at me. He attempted to clap me on the forearm with as much vigor as in the old days. "Ho-ho! Narnia comes to Archenland's aid! Who could have foreseen this?"

I nodded back to him with a grin. "We have come indeed. It seems you should have asked for our aid sooner."

A graver expression welled up behind the light in the King's eyes "We kept up on our own this long hoping the rains would come again. We have heard the weather has been much too sunny in the north as well."

"Much too sunny," was a jovial way to put it, but I understood his deeper reasons for treating the matter as a jest. So, I nodded before turning to his children. There stood Prince Cor, Princess Aravis, their son the Prince Ram, Prince Corin, and his betrothed.

Cor stuck out his hand first. I could tell his brother was turning red from suppressing his own desire to greet my soldiers and I, but perhaps his thirty years had taught Corin self-restraint at last, or perhaps it had something to do with the lady at his side pinching his arm. The younger twin turned a wicked grin upon her. If Queen Susan were here, the gentle would have been asking on what day their wedding was taking place.

I took the Crown Prince's hand. He gave mine a clasp hard enough to feel. However, he did not crush my hand as I knew his brother would attempt to do. The unblinking gaze of Cor's blue eyes put me in mind of the High King's. His tone of voice did the same. "Thank you sir, and please relay that to every member of the council when you return. Thank you."

Not every member of the counsel ruling Narnia in The Four's stead had voted to send this aid, but I only nodded at his words. "The Four would have had it so. And Aslan would have it so."

The Son of Adam's lips curled into a smile, but his eyes shone wet. I glanced away from his face. Aravis was giving a northern curtsy as perfect as the Colormene one she had given upon her first arrival in Cair Paravel. At her own request, our Queens had helped her master northern manners. For a moment, the Archenland princess' dark hair and grace made me think The Gentle was before me again. She turned her face up at me and proved it was not so. Yet, I still smiled upon her. She smiled back. "Welcome to the most grateful of castles, noble Oreius."

I bowed to her. "And we are grateful to be able to so render aid, noble princess of Archenland."

Ram stepped up to his mother's side and stuck out his hand. "We are most grateful for the supplies you have brought us, good general." My smile widened as I shook his hand.

Cor's features pulled into a grin across a face as dark as my own. I had heard some said the eldest grandson of Lune showed his Colormene blood too much to be in line to rule Archenland. I thought Ram's graver mannerisms and steady nature preferable to a king than his uncle's pranks and temper. When there were actions to be taken, Ram took them. When stillness was preferable he was still. His heart seemed set upon Aslan. If Archenland did not want him . . . No, it was still too soon after The Four to think of such things.

I glanced over the royal family's heads to catch sight of the fruit trees planted between the castle wall and castle proper. The saplings had been gifts from The Four. So I suffered a little, when my first glance told me they might not survive the year. Ram's voice made me look back down. "Do your people need aid in unloading these supplies you have brought to us?"

Lune had looked up sharply at his grandson's question. I turned my face away to survey the situation. This also kept the Archenland royalty from seeing any trace of the doubt upon my face in their gaunt folk's ability to help rather than hinder my people's efforts. The Narnians were successful so far in unloading the wagons alone. My gaze wandered as I searched for words to answer our hosts that would not also shame them.

I froze upon beholding an unexpected sight. Some two dozen furlongs away, a crowd of fifty men stood and watched us. They all wore armor not of Archenland, nor Narnia, nor any army of the Tisroc's. They were not grouped in an organized enough fashion to look like soldiers fallen into rank, but neither were they standing irregular enough to seem relaxed. Every pair of eyes among them were staring, no, glaring upon my people. These same eyes were even further sunken into skull-like faces than those just before me. They did look like those Jadis had starved. A voice broke into my thoughts.

"Have no fear, general. We will neither order nor allow _them_ to work beside you Narnians." I turned. Prince Corin's gaunt face was grinning. A bonier arm than I was used to seeing the famous boxer present was already stuck out towards me. At its end, a rough-textured hand awaited mine. I took it. Sure enough, he tried to squeeze his hand closed like a noose. However, the attempt softened my heart more than it harmed my fingers. I gave a nod to him. "Good to see your strength has not been fully sapped by these hard times, prince."

His grin widened as he raised his chin. "You bet it's not. You met Sarah, yet?" He turned to smile upon the woman his other arm was wrapped around. "We're getting married as soon as things green up around here. Although, now you brought the makings of the cake, I'm thinking of sneaking her to the chapel now."

Soft, but still strong fingers managed to find some flesh along his biceps to pinch. He flinched slightly, but also chuckled at the lady. His laughing blue eyes were warm, and I thanked Aslan the younger twin prince of Archenland had finally lost his heart to one that could keep even with him. Then I turned my gaze back to the small army watching my people with such malice.

"They are Telmarines." I jerked my gaze away to meet that of Archenland's king. His eyes were as grave as I had ever seen them be without also being wet. "The famine is perhaps even worse in Telmar. They came for grain and found us as you see us now."

I looked back to the strange Sons of Adam. A strand of fear tightened in my spine.

. . .

The queens met their younger brother with hugs and cups of tea, but while he pressed kisses to their brows he spoke not a word. His steps seemed heavy. The relief with which he gazed upon the walls of Cair Paravel was deep. The other Sons of Adam with him, native Islanders and Archenlanders who had chosen some years back to make Narnia their home, behaved much the same.

Questions about their journey were met with half-grins and pleas of how tired they were and how they wanted to enjoy being home before telling tales. When he reached his rooms, The Just locked himself away in them. When he was wearing slippers and night-gown, holding yet another cup of tea, and surrounded only by myself and the other three, he explained.

"All in Telmar is as bad as we have been told and worse. Not bad for them. They have a well-organized, structured, orderly society. If anything, they are a bit too strict and no-nonsense. Which may be why so many of their criminals end up harrying us. All know the punishments for crimes if they are caught. So, any who hear a hint of their foul deeds being found out run for it. They race straight of their kingdom and toward ours."

The High King frowned. We had fought many battles against groups of such men who harried the western passes into Archenland. However, The Magnificent remained silent as the Just continued. "They aren't very apologetic about the troubles their justice system and ne-er-do wells cause us. In their opinion, the Northeast is inhabited by monsters, ghosts, witches, and more monsters. And they aren't silent about those opinions either."

The Just paused to sip from his teacup, allowing The Gentle to speak. "But the reports we had . . ."

Her younger brother lowered his cup and broke in, "Were written up by Archenlandish visitors during the long winter. Things have changed since then, Sue, and due to us I think."

The Valiant straightened in her chair with wide eyes. "What do you mean 'by us'?"

Edmund slouched down into his chair. He stared at the flames in the fireplace. "As far as I can figure it, their oldest tales about witches, monsters, and ghosts are from the time before the Long Winter, when the old guard was keeping Narnia fairly clear of fell and giants. In those days that lot were forced west more often than not. They harried smaller villages, farms, and traveling Telmarines near the mountains taking livestock, children, and those wandering alone."

Susan shivered, but kept quiet. Lucy leaned forward as her eyes flashed. Peter's face had gone hard. Edmund merely shrugged. "But during the long winter, most of these stories were taken for that . . . stories. Told to children and heedless wanderers to keep them from going off by themselves and getting lost. I guess most of the fell had moved in over here during that time." Edmund took another sip of his tea before continuing. "But then we came along and all of that changed. Those we drove off alive had to go somewhere, and a lot of them went west. All those complacent Telmarines who thought giants, werewolves, and witches were just stories suddenly had to face them again. So the hatred is now fresh."

The Valient jumped to her feet. Words burst out from her red face. "But our people are not like that! They are as different as spring water from poison. You must have told them that Ed! Didn't your sticking up for them make a difference?"

The Just King set his now empty cup aside in its saucer and sighed. "I'm afraid it made it worse, Lu."

Queen Lucy blinked. The other two monarchs sat up straighter and glanced at each other. Then they looked back to their brother. The High King spoke first. "Can you explain that to us, Ed?"

Edmund sighed, his shoulders lowering into a slump. "I told you about the criminals that run away into the mountains on our side of their borders. Well, in many of the stories, including recent ones, these come across evil creatures, hags mostly, and make pacts for revenge against their own people. Those are some of the worst stories. They usually end with poisoned wells, burned houses, and entire families or villages being attacked and eaten by fell with the traitor looking on laughing. So, when any human tries to say a good word about our people to them, they are automatically thought of as . . ."

"Traitors," I finished for him. At the slight tightening and paling of my King's face I immediately regretted using the word. Then his form relaxed as he gave a nod. "The more we spoke the truth to them, the less they trusted us. We are friends of their foes."

Peter's blue eyes flashed in the firelight. "Does this have anything to do with the three soldiers who did not come back with you?"

Edmund shook his head. "No, we lost Joshua on the way there to a harpy attack, and Wallace and Barnabas to another attack by werewolves on the way back. I have to tell their families tomorrow."

A somber silence followed. Edmund broke it while digging at a weary eye with the heel of his hand. "But there were a great many scuffles in Telmar. Some of our men could not ignore their insults to our people. Silas was involved in two out of every three fights." The Just sighed again. "I should have left him home."

I could tell by his tone and lax face the younger king was blaming himself and had forgotten I had insisted the Archenland-born soldier accompany him. Silas was broad and tall, more like a Bear than a Son of Adam in that way, even more so than the High King himself. However, the knight was better at taking orders than Corin thunder-fists, whom the soldier also resembled in general temperament. He was as loyal to The Four as I, and I had wanted every such human soldier to accompany my king since neither I nor any of our native born soldiers could. But Silas did have a habit of throwing the first punch when roused by an insult. He especially did so when the insult was directed at what he fought for. He also had a dryad wife. She was the reason he had stayed and settled in Narnia after what was supposed to be a brief visit. He had had the complete permission and understanding of King Lune who had seemed glad to see the old ties renewed between our lands.

I kept myself from sighing but admitted in my own mind that I should _not_ have insisted Silas accompany The Just on a diplomatic venture. Edmund himself finished my thought for me. "In short, there will be no diplomatic or friendly relations of any sort between Narnia and Telmar. The best we can do is completely ignore each other. Any more attempts to put ourselves forward again will simply result in more suspicions." Then the younger king reached inside his vest for an inner pocket. "I did, however, get express permission to try and execute any former citizen of Telmar found robbing travelers or associating with fell in the mountains between our two nations." The Just held forth a small scroll with a seal of blue wax upon it.

Susan sniffed. "Well, how generous. We get to treat the criminals they've already disowned as they deserve."

Peter leaned back into his chair while looking to The Gentle. "It is something Su,"

"I just don't understand." Queen Lucy was blinking back tears. "All we want to do is make friends and prove they're wrong about us. If they could just see our dear cousins up close and how kind and honorable they are . . ."

Kind Edmund sighed. "There is a thin line, Lu, between cautious and suspicious, and they have erred on the latter's side."

. . .

I blinked the memory away to find I was still staring at the Telmarines and many of them were now staring back at me. Gathering myself, I began to step towards them. To their credit, they neither retreated nor blanched at my approach. Their brows simply grew more furrowed, jaws tighter, and stares harder.

Then something happened that did make them blanche and draw back. From behind me a dull thump echoed, which was then followed by a rustling. Almost immediately, the Telmarines paled while their eyes bulged. A few drew back a stride. I turned my head.

A heavy sack of grain had been dropped. A nearby cloud of green leaves swirled, looking out of place in the dry landscape. Then they congealed and hardened into the form of a tall lady whose golden face was blushing pink.

I had not seen, but knew what had transpired. When startled, dryads often transformed into moving leaves. Such forms were less easily harmed and moved more swiftly through undergrowth. The sight must have been startling for one who had never observed such a thing. I turned back and continued to approach these strangers far from home. When I stood a few strides from them, I spoke. "You need not fear. Sun-crown is a Beech dryad. She is also a gentle and trusted friend of plants, beasts, and humans as well."

A hard gaze pierced me. "We have no fear." At his announcement the other men of the group nodded. I bowed towards the man. "Am I addressing the ranking officer of this force of Telmar?"

The speaker nodded. "You are."

"But I," another interrupted while stepping forward and giving a grin and bow at the waist, "am the main speaker of the group, a diplomat here on Telmar's behalf."

I studied the new speaker. He was the best dressed in the group, in a tunic that was likely scarlet beneath all the orange dust and a like feather protruding from his helmet. I bowed back to him, also at the waist. " I am general Oreius."

The commanding officer broke in again. "We know who you are."

I continued to look upon and speak to the diplomat. "I am sorry to learn the famine that seems to have struck the entire north has reached into Telmar as well."

Another grin that strained the cheeks too much and showed many teeth flashed over the diplomat's face. His eyes glinted. "It has done little to try Telmar's strength."

"That is good to hear."

I heard a scoff from the crowd, but did not take my eyes off their diplomat. "Will you be staying much longer in Archenland?"

I should not have asked. A flash went through the man's eyes. Then it was shuttered. "We have not decided on a departure date yet."

I gave another bow. "Then perhaps we will speak to each other again soon."

"Perhaps."

. . .

The Narnians that came with me, the servants of Lune's household, and the common folk of Anvard prepared a banquet from the new supplies we brought with us. Every table in the palace seemed to be in use. There was barely room to walk between them. I and other large Narnians stayed near the wide arched doors and the King's head table. We had brought watered-down wine with us as well. That night there was more eating than we were then used to and far more drinking.

My gaze was ever drawn during the feast to the table occupied by the Telmarines. Earlier they had asked to be placed as far from the Narnians as possible. The King had informed them he was making us guests of honor and wished to have both his visiting delegations near him, but they insisted on being placed far away. Late in the celebration, one of their soldiers got up and shouted, so that even in that loud hall he could be heard. At his words, others fell still so he was heard even better.

"Why does a man and king of a nation ruled by natural men welcome monsters and have them dine at his table?"

King Lune grinned, but I had seen the gleam in his eyes often enough to tell the current one were a precursor to danger. In spite of the excuse of having been too deep in the wine, Archenland wine, for they would only drink and eat whatever rations had been left in the castle before we arrived, I did not know how safe this fool was. Still, the King's tone was calm. "There would be little on the board to dine upon were it not for our friends, the Narnians. And I assure you, Telmarine, they are natural Narnians."

Many of the Archenlanders laughed. Even some of my people managed to smile. A Squirrel shouted in the rafters, where he had decided to take his meal to keep his tail from being stepped on.

"King Lune, King Lune, hail the good King! Sound in judgment and with a wit as sharp as his sword!"

The Telmarine soldier glared up at Chatter-teeth. "Now, see! There! A beast speaks like a man, but is not a man, and is several times larger than it ought to be! How is that natural?"

"Because, Chatter-teeth is a Talking Squirrel by the gift of The Great Lion to his ancestors. As it was a gift to mine to be brought to this good world." I turned to see Prince Ram's dusky face had reddened somewhat. Yet, his expression was otherwise impassive.

The Telmarine was fool enough to point to the grandson of the lord of the house he had taken refuge in. "And what is all this talk of a lion, who unnaturally talks, being King of the whole world!"

"That," declared the Telmarine diplomat while standing and walking towards the soldier, "Is quite enough, brother." He laid a hand upon his fellow's shoulder and squeezed it. "I fear my brother has had too much celebrating for one night, and why not since it is the first time we have drunk alcohol since long before leaving our homeland? I shall take him up to bed and take myself to bed also that I might not suffer the same fate."

Then their general rose as well. "Perhaps I and all my soldiers should do thus. If you will excuse us, your majesty." He bowed to King Lune. King Lune nodded and gave them permission to leave. All did while maintaining stoney silence except for the one who had exploded and now mumbled under his strong breath further insults to us Narnians.

. . .

I was stepping along the carpet that lined the hall, raising puffs of dust with my hooves. A thin layer of dust covered all inside the palace despite the best efforts of Lune's servants. The hall was dark, but my eyesight was good. Beyond me lay a door to a veranda where I could watch the dances of the stars. Perhaps this time they would tell me this long and far spread drought was soon to end.

As I passed the King's audience chamber, voices and the yellow glow of candle-light drifted under the door. "How is it you trust beasts, who've killed many of our people, to feed you?"

"The Narnians who have come to our rescue are not like the fell that have plagued you. Surely you have had your own people who turn against the rest out of hatred or greed, even blood-lust. Sometimes they leave your kingdom before you can deal with them and they plague other nations. This happens to all countries."

Though Lune was right and had worded the argument gently, one of the Telmarines apparently took offense. The next statement was a snarl. "These are monsters, not men. Why do you speak as if they are such?"

Before one of the Archenlanders could respond another voice with the Telmarine accent spoke, though his voice was much smoother. "What my fellow Telmarine means is that you put much trust in these . . . "Narnians. Eating their food and letting them sleep unguarded in your stronghold."

"They have earned that trust. They had since before I was born." I smiled at Ram's response.

"Well," the same smooth voice continued, "that has not been a very long time." A pause followed before the voice continued. "And how is it that they have so much food to give away?"

"They have been storing up quantities of excess grain during plentiful harvests for years."

"So did we, yet we have run out and they have not."

"Not all their folk eat grain. Many prefer other provisions and had stored up these as well. And in the north things are not quite as bad. Some blizzards from the moorlands make it down to their borders."

"Do they? And how is that?"

"It is the weather. What else would you think it?"

"We have heard of their enchantress queen who controls snow and ice."

Fury paralyzed me. Then I heard the voice of King Lune again. It was as serious as I have heard it. "You must never again speak of her as being currently their ruler or indeed of being alive, for neither is true. She was killed by Aslan as her forces battled against his. His were the victors and accepted the rule of The Four whom He crowned. She is dead, conquered, but her forces are still many. However, they are scattered and leaderless. They are foes of us, you, and the Narnians you met today, for they are foes of The Great Lion."

"How is it the men of your country bow to a beast?"

"Because He is the beast who made Narnia and this country and all the countries, seas, isles, deserts, and mountains of this world, which we have made our home. He rules this world and all the worlds, and has brought us into this one. How then, can we not bow to Him?"

"If He is so very great, why has He not ended this drought and famine for you?"

"I know that not. I have questioned Him about it. He has not answered me, except in this. The Narnians who came today took council with their leaders as to whether they should share their grain with us or not. For they themselves are not unaffected by this drought. But they felt The Great Lion leading them to trust Him and to share with us. And I believe they might yet share with you, if you would ask."

Hearing this I went on and came to the balcony. There I stepped out, looked up at the lights walking the paths of the sky, and became aware of another presence near me. I turned. Just barely defined from the shadow he was hidden in, sat a man. I looked straight at him, and he returned my gaze.

"Have you finally decided to begin slaying the inhabitants of this castle, creature, while they sleep and the darkness is with you?"

I realized I was gripping the hilts of my twin swords and released them. Though I did not pull my hands too far away. I knew the voice. There was the Telmar accent, the unusual depth for a son of Adam, and the note of military authority that seemed to come from all such leaders. I shook my head at the general of these Telmarines.

"No, I have come to watch the stars' dance, but I can do so from another balcony." (This was the best one for star gazing, but I did not want to share it with a son of Adam who thought me a killer capable of slaying his victims in the night while they slept.) The man chuckled.

"Stars' dance? Do you somehow control their movements for your purposes?"

"No. Only Aslan controls their dances. He sometimes tells us things through them, for those who know how to read his messages properly in them."

"You mean this greatest of all speaking beasts you talk of, whom you credit with all good things while blaming him for none of the bad?"

It was not truly a question, but I answered it as such. "Blame would be improper. Trusting Him through all the bad, while praising Him for the good, yes, that is proper."

"Do the stars say he is planning to send rain, or does he not control that?"

"I have not begun reading them yet, but yes, He does send the rains . . . and withholds them."

"He must be angry then, or perhaps another witch has wrested control of them from him as the last wrested away control of the snow and ice."

"She did not wrest control of them from Him, but He allowed her to rule them and us for a short time."

"Then he was angry with you?"

"Perhaps. Some say punishments and tests look much the same from the viewpoint of the student, but enduring them well shows who you are."

A long silence followed during which I turned from the Son of Adam and read the sky while also keeping my ears swiveled back to catch any sound he might make. Then, when I began to note the message in the stars was much the same as the last few years, my ears caught the next words of the Son of Adam. His entire tone had changed.

"Well said."

I turned to look at him. He rose from his seat, a bench against the castle wall, and stood like a soldier during his leisure time. He strolled up to the railing while looking up at the sky keeping his hands visible and low at his sides. He kept himself just out of my reach as he leaned over the balcony rail on my right. "What do the stars say tonight, general?"

I looked away from him and up again. "They say . . . hope is far away, beyond the eastern sea, and it is also near, in our hearts. For, we know the one who dwells there and He dwells in us. We must endure and wait on Him. In the end, He will make all things right."

"Will He?"

"Yes."

"And how many of your people have died waiting on Him to make good that promise?"

"Many, and all who so faithfully waited are now with Him."

The man snorted. "How do you know?"

"I trust."

"And would it not be better for those who still live waiting on you for you to _do_ rather than to _trust_?"

"Aslan does not forbid us from aiding others when we can unless in doing so we disobey Him."

"And when might those times be?"

"Acting when we are called to wait, breaking promises, harming an innocent we do not love to aid another we do." The man's form tensed in the moonlight. Had the warnings I had learned as a foal and relearned my whole life angered him? The possibility was unsettling. I swished my tail against my flanks and continued. "However, Aslan has not forbidden us from _accepting_ aid from his fellow servants who give as He gave to them."

"He does not seem to be in a very giving mood to me."

"He is always giving. Even now He gives love and patience and forgiveness to us. Otherwise we would be snapping your necks."

The man's head turned. For a moment I thought I had stepped too far. His dark eyes stared up into my face without blinking. I stared back in the same way. We were both still. Then, he laughed.

The sound was deep and came from his gut. It caused me to chuckle with him. When we were finished there were tears in his eyes. "You are not as I had heard, beast."

"You are much as I have heard. But more like me than expected."

He nodded. "The . . . Fell . . . as you call them, never have they seemed to me disciplined soldiers . . . like you and yours."

I nodded. "Most are not. They had some semblance of being such under their false queen. The fear of her and training she gave them made them thus, but they lost it, the worst almost immediately, the best, gradually."

He nodded again. "I respect a disciplined enemy even if I must kill him." I nodded back. He squinted at me. "Is your grain good?"

"The best."

. . .

I could tell his men were not happy. The soldiers of Telmar gripped as little of the grain sacks as possible even as they loaded them into wagons harnessed to Archenland mules still looking gaunt as they stood and waited to pull. Yet, under their general's gaze the Sons of Adam worked on.

Their diplomat did not seem happy either, though he smiled. It looked like the false smiles of the Colormene diplomats when they are at their most sly and furious. Edmund had had a smile like that too, but it was rarely so sharp.

When the power of the situation rested with him rather than his foes, The Just King could smile gently even as he threatened with the full weight of the law he could recite without error. Only when he was the prisoner did The Just let a sharp, almost feral light gleam in his eyes. He then grinned like a hungry wolf at his captors. It made them question if they had as much control as they thought. Usually, he was about to answer them with a move that could get him killed, but buy others time. Consequently, both the High King and I grew to fear that look of his. I feared this expression of the Telmarine diplomat's now. His mixture of the tranquil and the sharp, the desperate and the sly, made me think of the King I had feared the White Witch's informant would be, rather than The Just King Edmund had been.

Their general caught me staring at his diplomat. I flicked my gaze away to meet my fellow soldier's. He stared back at me, unblinking as he had before. This time, though, there was a true calm there, easy and unfaltering. He was not afraid of me. Therefore, he was not afraid of my soldiers. Therefore, he was not afraid of our grain.

He had earlier explained that we must not help his newly fed and strengthened men load their wagons. They were proud and . . . not yet able to to take a fellow soldier's word if he not also be a man. I had agreed. So far, we had managed to keep our soldiers apart. Then . . . a troubling thing happened.

A bag slipped off a heap in one of the wagons. It swept into a Telmar soldier bearing him to the ground. This produced a cloud of dust as any weight hitting Archenland soil did in those days.

A burst of chattering laughter came from a nearby tree. I looked up to the source and swished my tail. _Chatter-teeth._

If I had known we would encounter a strained diplomatic situation on this trip, I would not have brought him. He and King Lune liked each other. His jokes always brought a smile to the face of Archenland's ruler even when the old man was sad. Over short distances, the Squirrel could relay orders with a speed and clarity unmatched by any other messenger. Unfortunately, Chatter-teeth shared his thoughts and jokes just as quickly when they were unwanted.

His swift laughter released the Telmarines' fury. All of the common soldiers and captains stopped their work and put their hands upon their sword-hilts. The Telmarine whose accident had started the situation flung the heavy sack aside and rose to his feet. He also wrapping his fingers around his sword-hilt.

"What is so funny, beast?!"

Before I could command him to remain silent, the Squirrel spoke. "You, all you Telmarines. You are terrified of us, when you should be scared of heavy sacks."

This called forth chuckles from many of the non-soldiers in the group of Narnians. Even prince Corin guffawed. This did nothing to ease the Telmarines anger. The one who had questioned his tormentor continued. "We do fear these sacks, squirrel! Who knows what poison you monsters, ghosts, and demons have mixed in?"

My fellow Narnians fell into silence. But Chatter-teeth was silent for only a second. He bent down from the end of the branch holding him and shouted at the man. "And what makes you think we would waste good grain poisoning sour-breathed men like you?"

"To wipe us out and take our land from us!"

Chatter-teeth rose to his hind legs on the tree branch. "Take your land? Why would we take _your_ land? Narnia is the best land there is! Why do you think we can share our grain? More grain grows in one of our fields than I bet grows in all of yours right now. And our trees produce only the choicest nuts. We have wood-lords, dryads, and hamadryads, who see to that. Its an insult to them for any nut our fruit in their forests to be anything but perfect! And they take time to bless our other crops as well. And they and King Edmund and the other best gardeners and learned-folk of the land found the the best varieties to plant during wet, dry, hot, and cool years. And we have folk who can tell which kind of year it will be and we plant the right variety every year and . . ."

"Pardon me, good squirrel, but how do you get any water to dampen the soil round your crops at all, is their a magic variety that can grow without water?" I turned to see the Telmarine diplomat whose strange smile had become a grin. My jaw clenched tight, so Chatter-teeth answered.

"Why, no, but we have springs with water spirits that still flow and water things and deep wells with the same as well, and the Great River isn't dry yet and some snow still reaches and melts for the winter wheat in the northern farms and . . ."

"That is enough Chatter-teeth!" My messenger turned back to me and looked ashamed of himself. I did not offer him any sign he should be otherwise. He came down from the tree and crept over to stand on his hind legs before me. I pointed to King Lune, who was looking very grave indeed. "Apologize to our host, whom you have shamed by starting and continuing an argument with one of our fellow guests."

The Squirrel did so, gravely and with much words and beggings for forgiveness. Even a few tears wet his whiskers. King Lung gave a grave, low words of warning and others of forgiveness. The Telmarines left with no further words, except from their diplomat who bid King Lune a flowery goodbye, and their general who gave the King and his family a briefer, but I thought more sincere word of gratitude and respect.

Then the man strode over to me and stretched out his hand. His people were already well on their way. His best captain was leading them, he would bring up the rear. So none of his soldiers or even the diplomat riding by the captain's side saw our encounter. I reached out and shook the offered hand, meeting his gaze. We blinked a great deal. There was a lot of dust floating in the air that day. He spoke in a low voice not easily heard over the creaking wheels of the wagons and clopping hooves of the mules.

"I am glad to carry your grain and goods back to our people. If it is as good as you say, nay even if it does my people any good and no harm, I will make sure they only do your people the same."

I nodded. "May it be as you say, and may neither we, nor any of our folk, do the other harm."

. . .

The following year, I was watching the perimeters around the winter wheat fields of the north. Some good things had come from Jadis' reign, these farms and their cold-hearty varieties of grains, potatoes, and the like. We were able to grow and harvest now through the fall and winter when a bit of rain and snowfall blew down form the north. Very little made it into Narnia proper, but since we had taken these lands back from the giants and groups still loyal to their dead queen, our folk would not starve. And we had perhaps saved an old ally and a new from starvation as well.

I felt a bit of trembling in the earth through my hooves. Something very great, but with many feet moving in a steady chorus was coming my way from afar. I turned and cantered in its direction. I called for Saphyra and her husband to accompany me. Storm-hoof and my sister came up on either side of me as we crested a hill. From there, we saw it.

A sea of silver, made up of wave upon wave of armor-clad men marching east, marching toward us. Above them waved a flag Edmund had added to Cair Paravel's books on other lands which I had only seen off the page once. What brought still more fear were the catapults dotted behind the first several lines of soldiers.

I turned to Saphyra. "Go, evacuate the villages and homesteads, gather the northern guard. Go!"

With a look of fear, my sister did as asked. I then turned to her husband. "Go, guard and aid her."

With a brief stare of uncertainty, he did so. I kept well back from the approaching army. Keeping them barely in sight and hoping if they spotted me they would not think me much of a mark for arrows or flying boulders. They did not. But when the horn of Narnia blew and the northern guard surrounded me the invading army charged forward. They halted when their first several lines reached the crest of a taller hill than that we were on. There, they set up their shield wall.

I gestured for my soldiers to stay back. If we waited, perhaps the other army would rethink. Perhaps they would draw back, or send a messenger who would sue for peace or at least begin discussions about doing so. Perhaps more soldiers of Narnia would come in the interim and join us, strengthening our numbers. Perhaps . . . perhaps . . . But none of these things were likely to be. An army so great, so well equipped, who had come so far . . . and us . . .

I could feel the anger building in my own soldiers. We were the party wronged. They were on our land, in our kingdom, threatening our families. My soldiers longed to charge. Yet the wisest feared to as well.

Then . . . a boulder sailed over my head. Others sailed over the heads of those in the front lines, then over the heads of the second, third, fourth . . . I dared not turn my face away from the enemy, but I felt the earth shake as they fell. One of our giants . . . decent creatures and champions of our army all, got up no more for every stone the invaders had fired. Then a barrage of arrows descended upon us all. Just as they flew toward us, my eyes locked upon the one who had given the order to release them.

My jaw clenched. I knew that voice. Less than a year past, I had heard it warn, and question, and laugh.

_Traitor._

The arrows landed. Some hit armor, some hit raised shields, and some hit flesh. Soldiers fell around me. A decision had to be made. We could stand and let their boulders and arrows fell us here. We could retreat and lead them closer to the village, or we could charge. I shouted the command, and we charged.

**Reviews are much appreciated and often responded to.**

**God Bless**

**ScribeofHeroes**


	4. Chapter 4

**Apologies for this chapter taking so long. Real life has gotten demanding and I joined an RP. Hopefully this update will be worth the wait.**

**I do not own Narnia, Oreius, Telmar, or Calormen. I did create Saphyra, Alceus, and the diplomat. This story is for entertainment purposes, so please read and be entertained. :)**

The dwarves who cut my way out through the shield wall both fell with spears through them. My eyes swept over the field as I ran. A Satyr with an arrow in him rose to his feet. I bent down and grabbed his arm. An arrow whizzed past my throat. I lifted the Satyr so his hooves hovered an arm-length above the ground. I dropped him to wrap my arm around his waist.

I directed our escape route past one particular form lying on the turf. I stared hard at it. One stir, one groan, and I would have stopped. A dead, blue eye stared back at me. I leapt over him and ran on.

Arrows cut down Narnian soldiers on either side of me. Some I saw fall. Others I only heard cry out or collapse behind me. One Bear ran with arrows protruding from his pelt. A few great Cats streaked back through the lines.

Once we were over the ridge, I fixed my eyes upon the group of buildings along the horizon. I kept my pace a dead run. The tramp of feet still sounded behind us.

A distant creak was followed by a snap. A whistle of air sounded over me. A boulder crashed down to the ground before me. I reared, wrapping my other arm around the Satyr. My eyes snapped shut. Dirt and gravel stung my face. I opened my eyes again. The boulder was wider than I, though not as tall. I ran around it, placing it between me and the enemy.

As I neared the village, I was heartened to see it empty. No forms lingered in the street, but a blue speck was perched atop a porch-rail. _No! _

I turned and began to run toward the blue dot. The dot became a blue line, another thinner line waved above it. This turned into a form with a golden head. The golden head cleared into a face. The arm had a hand now. A boulder crashed through the roof of the building nearest me. I ran on to the form, but called to a soldier behind me. "Justin!"

The bay Horse ran up beside me. I placed the Satyr on his back. The soldier's hairy hands gripped the mane. I slapped Justin's flank. "GO!"

As Justin raced away, carrying his fellow soldier, another boulder fell into the street behind them. Justin reared, and then shot forward again. He raised a cloud of dust I hoped would hide them from the catapult's aim.

I turned and raced toward the figure on the porch rail. The eleven-year-old looked not at me, but kept staring out behind my fleeing soldiers. "Pa-pa! Pa-pa!"

I grabbed the child and pulled her into my arms before following in Justin's wake. She struggled in my grasp. "No! I'm waiting for my Pa! Where is he? Where did you leave him?!" The girls raised her head to look over my shoulder.

Another whistle was followed by a crunch of wood behind us. The girl froze. I was grateful for this. She turned her blue eyes upon my face. "Where is Pa?"

I did not look at her. My jaw clenched shut. I told myself I had no breath to spare in a reply.

. . .

We caught up with the villagers within an hour. They were raising a dust cloud so thick only the closest figures could be distinguished. My sister was one of these.

She turned and ran to me. A damp cloth was tied around her head to hang over her nose and mouth. I trotted up to Saphyra and deposited Silas' daughter in her arms. The visible portion of my sister's face creased into a scowl. Her words came forth muffled, but understandable. "Child! I thought you left with us!"

The girl scowled up at the centauress. "I ran back home. I needed to wait for Pa-pa. I needed to see him come back!"

Saphyra looked up at me. I met her gaze, and then lowered mine. She swallowed, before turning and running back towards the crowd with Kinsey in her arms.

I glanced back over my shoulder. One could see the dust rising in the village. Figures of men spilled through it like a crowd of ants. They did not seem interested in following further, but I gave the signal to continue moving. My heart rebelled against leaving so many soldiers behind. Perhaps our enemies would bury them, it was hot and dry to burn or leave them lying in the sun.

. . .

We walked on until dusk. Soldiers stayed in back, the villager adults walked before us, before them went the children, and before the children trotted Saphyra, a few scouts, and archers. Now could be a prime opportunity for giants or fell to come upon us while we were exposed and weary. I hoped instead they would be fool enough to test the strength of the Telmarines. Both groups would well deserve this.

When darkness veiled our road, I gave the command to halt. We did so and had a chill meal of water, journey-bread, nuts, and dried fruit and meat. Soldiers and archers were positioned along the perimeter of the camp. Children and elders were kept in the center. Parents and caretakers slept in a circle around these. Mothers and daughters formed the inner circle. Fathers and brothers made up the outer. Between the soldiers and families were civilians who neither were parents nor caring for parents. A Cheetah, Leopard, Hound, and Eagle watched the four compass points. After seeing to this, I went to the center of the camp myself.

Most of the villagers and soldiers sat on the grounds or in wagons wrapped in blankets or shawls thrown over their shoulders. They sipped or ate from mugs. Their eyes stared out every direction but west, which they only glanced at over their shoulders. When I came to the center of the camp, Silas' daughter set-aside a half empty bowl, raced up to me, and wrapped herself around one of my legs. She scowled up at me. "Where is Pa-pa?!"

I looked to Saphyra. She met my gaze and shrugged. The child had obviously had water and food, not much, but then, half-dryads sometimes needed less food than other creatures. What was more certain was the girl would not feel like eating after hearing the news she demanded. I saw the question surface in my sister's eyes. _Shall I tell her?_

I gave the slightest shake of my head before looking back down at the child. No, I was there and her father's commander. I would tell his daughter. I reached down, scooped the lady up, and carried her away from the mass of villagers, but not past the tree where the Eagle stood watch. There, I put Kinsey, daughter of Silas and Sun-crown, down.

I folded my four legs beneath me to get closer to her height. I set my hands upon her shoulders and told Kinsey her Pa-pa was broad and strong as well as tall and fierce and archers of an enemy force often look for such targets. I also told her that though they shot at him many times, her Pa-pa raised his shield to block all shots until he was fighting two other foes. Even then it took two arrows and those two foes to fell him.

"But maybe he wasn't really dead!"

The eagle silhouetted against the lowering sun had spun around at the child's shout. I stared at him. He turned back to watch the horizon. I looked back to Kinsey and shook my head.

"No, little one. I made sure to pass by his body on the way out looking and listening to it as I passed. There was no more life there." _Lik__e all __disciplined soldiers, Telmarines make sure._

She cried and collapsed against me. I pulled her tightly to myself as I imagined Silas would do.

. . .

I took the next watch. While staring into the darkness, I pondered on how this had happened. The village guard had not only proven insufficient, it had barely slowed our foes, because I had assigned it only to defend farmers from werewolf packs, ogres, fell, and giants.

This Telmarine army was greater than any group of these since Jadis' reign, greater than any band of robbers or mercenaries hidden in the western mountains, greater than any force the Tisroc could send across the desert. And they were just as disciplined as the latter, maybe more so. Their shield wall never moved as my soldiers, Big Cats, Bears, and Centaurs rushed it. Many of these soldiers landed on the spears sticking over the shields. One Bruin had three spears stuck into him even as he struck down every man who came at him. So, they had surrounded him with more shields and more spears. Arrows had rained down upon him from the long-bowmen beyond until he had stopped moving.

"Brother?"

I turned. Saphyra stood behind me. I sighed as she drew near. "Saphyra, are you rested enough to take my watch?"

Her eyes widened. "Why?"

I turned my head back to face the night. A breeze brought a new wave of dust. I breathed particles into my nose. They tickled there as I spoke. "I have somewhere I must go."

"Brother Quick-flight is already sending word to the nearest fort. Even if he wasn't, I am sure we could send someone to call for aid besides our general."

"It is not to reinforcements I must go."

Her brows furrowed over her dark eyes. "Where then?"

I continued to stare into the west as I answered. "I must go speak to the general of the Telmarines.

Her mouth fell open. She backed away from me like a shying horse and shook her head. "What?! Why? No! No! You can't be serious!" Her hands balled into fists and she took one step toward me with her dark eyes flashing.

I sighed. "Yes, I am."

"You lost badly to them with the village guard and you now want to go to them alone?"

I reminded myself she meant only to be logical, but my tail swished behind me. I did not like my own voice as I replied. "I must go because we lost so badly, and because when the main army arrives we will still likely suffer great losses even in victory."

"We have a better chance at victory if you stay!"

"We may have a chance at peace if I go. If there is any possibility for peace, a leader has the duty to search it out."

Saphyra's hoof stamped. Her fists clenched at her sides. "Send someone else to search it out then."

I took in a deep breath before replying. "I have the most experience with them."

Saphyra sniffed. I glared. Her own expression softened as her shoulders slumped. "They played false with you brother. This time they will kill you."

I let my own form go lax and met her gaze. "They could kill me in battle tomorrow anyway. I cannot imagine a battle with them in which many of our soldiers will not die."

Tears left both of Saphyra's eyes to run down her face. "I cannot imagine them allowing you to leave their camp alive."

I stood frozen before her. Again I thought of the man I had met and spoken with. I would not have believed such a man would slaughter an unarmed messenger of peace as I now intended to be. But then, I could not imagine him attacking a country who had recently given him a life-saving gift without warning. _Why?_

I released a sigh. "I would be a poor general indeed, if I did not do what honorably could be done to save my soldiers' lives. They will inflict heavy losses even if we win. A general has a duty t o do all he can to prevent battle and war."

"Not when it involves suicide."

"You do not know that."

"What? Your friend one day is shaking your hand, months latter attacks us with his whole army. Now you believe he will shake your hand again tonight? What will he do then?"

"I can only pray Aslan will guide him and I into an honorable peace." I flicked my tail. "The result of which would be him departing with his whole army."

"They came for our grain. They aren't going to leave until we make them pay too dearly for it by giving them less mouths to feed."

"Perhaps not. But I must try. If my folly brings peace, good. If it brings my death, so be it."

"Why?" I remained silent. Saphyra tightened her hands into her fists at her sides and trembled where she stood. "Why?!"

"Enough!"

I turned to look upon her. "I must do this and do this alone. Tell Alceus to lead our troops if this does not work. Stormhoof will be under him." I reached out and cupped my little sister's face with my hands. She looked up at me as Ma-ma used to look at Pa-pa before he left to fight. Now her question came out much softer. _"Why?"_

I pressed a kiss to her forehead, removed all my weapons, and pulled a strip of white bandages from one of my packs before turning and galloping back across ground we had fled over before. I could not tell her, nor tell any of the soldiers with us, or any of those on their way, nor any in Narnia "why." I feared this was a war we could not win.

. . .

White cloth held up in one hand, I approached their camp at a walk. I had run most of the way, but once in range of their arrows I had slowed. I disobeyed all laws of caution putting myself in plain sight. I drew closer than I expected before being challenged, but when I was three archers were aiming at me from three directions. I thanked Aslan I had been challenged and not shot, yet.

A captain flanked by two soldiers armed with swords came out to meet me. I raised both my hands, one open, and the other still gripping the white cloth. "I come to speak of peace with your commander."

The captain's mouth pursed as his brows drew together in a scowl. One of the archer spoke from my right. "You dare ask for such a thing, monster?"

The shadow beneath the helmet of the commander in front of me cast a shadow that hid his eyes. I focused my gaze where they should be anyway. "The true question is 'do you dare kill an unarmed, high-ranking member of the force opposing yours who seeks peace without asking leave of your commander?'"

The commander and soldiers on either side of him stared at me. His mouth was set in a firm line that did not change as the silence lengthened between us. He backed up diagonally and motioned with his head for me to move toward the camp. "Follow me."

I almost released the breath I had been holding in an audible sigh. At least, it seemed I would speak to the general. The archers lowered their bows and slowly let the strings go lax, but they left the arrows on the strings.

I followed the commander. His two soldiers remained were they stood until I passed between them. They fell into step beside me. I kept my own steps short for them. The swish of grass came from behind me as the archers followed us. I felt their eyes upon my back as I felt the two swordsmen's eyes upon my hands.

The shapes of many tents lined the slight hills of the northern moors. They surrounded the empty village like a great herd of sleeping beasts. As we entered the camp proper, other sentries freed their weapon and watched as I passed. I came among the first tents. I walked down an aisle between the straight rows. Everything was straight, tight, and worn but not frayed.

We walked toward the center of camp. Door-flaps were tossed aside. Soldiers stepped out gripping a sword-hilt, a mace-handle, a bow with an arrow on its string. Eyes, many unseen in the shadows of helmets, others clear in the starlight followed my progress. Heads slowly turned as I passed them.

We reached the buildings Narnians had built lying in the center of the camp. Now I saw women and children huddled in doorways and looking out from windows as well. Their boney bodies were more noticeable without the armor the men wore. Great eyes in narrow faces widened and stared unblinking at me. Mouths with sharp jaw-lines hung open.

My nostrils twitched. The aroma of bread was in the air. This scent became stronger as I passed the open air ovens still lit. Trays of dough and roasted grain or grain ready to be roasted lay across the surrounding tables. I realized they had not been waiting to look at me, but probably for their turn to sample the stolen grain. My heart almost softened.

At the end of the street stood the greatest tent. Before it a fire burned. The fuel was bits of broken wood stood up to lean against each other as the flames ate them. Bare earth surrounded the flames for several steps outward. Piles of more earth surrounded this. A few spades were stuck into the ground ready to smother the glowing embers once they were no longer of use or in case one escaped. A circle of stones surrounded this. I recognized them and the fuel burning and stacked nearby as rubble of buildings broken by their flying boulders. One piece was a familiar looking porch-rail.

My escort shouted behind me. "Halt monster!" My hooves stopped a few steps before the rim of the fire-pit. The man turned his head and shouted toward the tent. "The Monster General of Narnia's unnatural army requests a negotiation with the commander of Telmar's un-defeatable army!"

A moment of silence passed. The tent's flap was flung aside. A man stepped out. I recognized him even in the starlight. His eyes swept up and down my form. His voice was hard, cold, and sharp as the sword hanging at his side. "Why have you come?"

I took a step forward and spread my hands. "To beg for the lives of both of our peoples."

The soldiers in the camp stirred around me. Without turning my head I glanced at those nearest. As my gaze was drawn to each man in turn, I saw grips tightened or changed on their weapons, feet moved into attack ready stances. Jaws tightened. Eyes already staring at me burned. I looked back to their general.

He had raised his chin. A glint of pride shone in his eyes. "The men of Telmar care nothing of hearing one monster beg for all monsters. We are here to wipe out the unnatural beasts, half-beasts, spell-casters, giants, and woodland sprites once and for all."

"And you will sacrifice your own men to do so?"

A shout came from a soldier at my right. "Better to die slaying your enemies than starve with women and children in your own house."

Only the general's eyes moved as he looked to his soldier and back to me. He smirked. "You hear, monster? We are not here to die, but to live."

"Cannot both our peoples live?"

A snarl washed over his face. His fingers gripped the sword hilt they had been resting on. "Yours have ever lived off the flesh of ours. Now at last we will have our vengeance by slaying you and living off what was yours."

"Those were no more our people than the robbers who escape your country to pillage Narnia were yours."

"Indeed, now the true citizens of Telmar shall have our chance to pillage Narnia, after we have wiped you out."

Shouts of approval rose up around me. I continued to stare at this man. I had once laughed with him. I had once shaken hands with him. He stared at me now like some maggot he had found in his bread. I shook my head. "Why? Why do you do this?"

His eyes narrowed further. "You thought us dogs to devour poisoned meat from your hand? You thought us hogs to fatten before your feast on us?"

I backed a step away from him. My lips pursed together. My stomach heaved. I shook my head. "That was never our intent!"

The general nodded, but as if he were agreeing with himself, not me. "The word of a monster, I have learned what that is worth."

Ropes fell around me. Their nooses fell around my arms, pinning them to my sides. I rose onto my hind legs. I heard bowstrings drawing tight. I looked up to see the archers pointing their arrows at me. Their whole army seemed to be holding onto the ends of the ropes binding my arms. Their general remained still as a pillar where he stood. His eyes gazed at my face cold and hard as ice. "We at last shall have vengeance for all our dead who listened to the lies of monsters like you."

The tent flap behind him was flung aside. Another man stepped out. "Wait!" My eyes fastened upon the speaker. He wore a long feather emerging from someplace on his helmet. My eyes squinted at the diplomat. Why was he there?

I gentled my gaze the next moment. His presence gave me some hope. A talker was here among these soldiers, a deal-maker. Perhaps he would listen, see the wisdom in what I had to say, and advise others to see it too. Perhaps.

I kept my gaze upon him and asked again the question burning in my heart. "Why have you broken our agreement?"

The man took three steps forward, hand on the hilt of his sword. His other hung at his side, but not lax. Its fingers were slightly curled as was the arm, as if it also wished or perhaps had a weapon to draw. He barely lifted his head to look into my face. His eyes glittered like steel in the starlight, but he also had a wide smile. His voice was smooth. "Why would any country not break such an agreement? As soon as we began to feast and more flesh covered our bones, monsters of your mountains came down to carry off our people newly fattened by your gift."

My tail lashed. I stomped a hoof. "We had nothing to do with that. We would have slain those man-eaters if they came near enough our own people. They eat ours as well."

He nodded and changed direction to circle me. I was forced to turn my head to keep eye-contact with him. His voice took on the uncertainty of a true question. "I suppose you also had nothing to do with our whole royal house dropping dead after sampling the supplies you so generously gave us?"

My heart froze within me. I shook my head. The diplomat stopped. He looked back to the general. "Perhaps we have been too hasty to make war."

I looked to the general himself. He seemed to have not taken his eyes off me, or loosened his grip on his sword, or blinked. His eyes still burned.

The diplomat's voice caused me to again look to him. "I prefer to deal with the real powers in a country, though, when discussing peace. Where and when can I meet with your royals?"

I shut my eyes and sighed. I shook my head as I reopened my eyes. "It is common knowledge our royals left this world years ago. They went back to their own."

The diplomat's eyebrows rose. "They left the _world?_ What fairy-tale is this?"

I stomped my hoof and lashed my tail harder. "They are the words of Aslan."

'This Great beast spoke to you all?"

My shoulder sank. "Not to all."

"To who then?"

"Me."

"And what did he tell you?"

I sighed. "He said to no longer search for them. He had brought them to us from another world, and He had sent them back to their own world. He will send them to us again when the time comes."

Our enemies stirred around me. Perhaps this last statement made them nervous. Edmund and Peter were still names feared among armies. Saying "Lucy" could make a few Colormenes pale. My fists clenched at my sides and I held my head higher. But the diplomat smiled. "I see. And you had to give this news to the others then, call off the search for your kings and queens."

He had begun to circle me again. He now stood opposite his general. I was nervous turning my back on the hardened soldier to watch this snake. "Yes."

"And who runs Narnia now?"

"A council of elders, high officials, and those well-respected throughout our lands."

"Of course. That is wise of you, but does not the true power of a kingdom reside in its soldiers?" He stopped and smiled at me. "Who rules the armies of Narnia now their royal family has left this world?"

Every fiber in my stiffened. My ears swiveled back. All around me seemed to have fallen silent as they waited for my answer. "I do."

Another noose fell over my head. I turned. Several men held the end of the rope. They were large like Silas, but the thought of Silas and Kinsey gave me strength. I reared. Another loop fell over my face. This one also tightened into my neck. I reared and pulled, but more and more men grabbed ahold of the ropes and more ropes fell. Some loops fell over my thrashing legs and pulled me down. I saw the point of a spear to my right. I turned to see its wielder. A cry made all other sound cease. "Stop!"

I turned again to see the cold, hard face of their general. "He is a soldier and a traitor. Let him receive the sentence of such."

Another soldier with square, wide shoulders and a naked sword strode toward me. The general spoke again as this soldier passed him. "Stretch out the monsters neck."

Some of the biggest grabbed my shoulders and bent me at the back. Another grabbed my head and held it in place. I swallowed.

Saphyra had been right. There was no way to peace without trust. These men would never trust us not even the one who had once called me "fellow soldier." All I had obtained were a few answers for myself and the death of Narnia's general.

A screech broke through the air. To a man, the Telmarines released the ropes, turned away, and drew their swords. A soft crash came from the fire. A wave of smoke swept over us. It engulfed everything.

I turned and barreled back the way I had come. My instincts begged me to stop. I could not see the ground, or my own hooves, or what stood in front of me, but I had taken careful note of the terrain.

I outran the cloud covering the area behind me and picked up speed. More screeches filled the air. Bowmen were looking to the sky. Shadows came between the ground and stars. Four distinct screeches came from four directions. Even in my haste I could tell them apart and tell they were turning in a great circle above the smoke.

I raced back through the village, past women grabbing their children and clinging to them while screaming and cringing away from me as I passed. Men shouted. Bowstrings twanged. I heard orders, but though loud, they seemed unsure. I winced at the mention of "catapults," but ran on.

I swept down the straight path through the camp. Thank Aslan the Telmarines were so organized, so exact. Thank Aslan I set up our camps up in circular patterns. I rushed out past the last tents. I raced through the tall grass ropes still flying back from me. When I raced past a thicket, another form parted from it and came up along side me. A rhythm of hoof-beats I knew well joined mine as we ran together. "You can thank me properly later brother, me and Alceus.

I thought of one particular griffin scream I heard over the camp that I recognized as not a cry of challenge, but pain, and remained silent.

**Reviews are much appreciated and often replied to. :)**

**God Bless**

**ScribeofHeroes**


	5. Chapter 5

**I did not create nor own Oreius, Narnia, or Telmar.**

**I did create Oreius' sister Saphyra, Gumperguffin, Stormhoof, Vice-Jaw, and Gold-cloud. **

**This story is for entertainment purposes only so please read and be entertained. :) **

Saphyra and I arrived at the camp a few hours before dawn. Fellow soldiers wiped the dew and lather from our flanks before wrapping us in blankets that we might catch an hour or so sleep before dawn. We and our fellow refugees awoke with the sun and traveled on.

We were by joined trickles of other refugees from northern farms still in the Telmarines' path. Birds who had flown over the battle turned massacre had convinced their leaders of the danger. Occasionally, I overheard mutterings along the lines of "being uprooted due to an overreaction." Despite this, we were a flood ourselves by the time we crossed the Great River. We camped on the far side and waited for the arrival of others we had sent messages to.

Gumperguffin, the head of one of the giant families came first. Three of his seven sons had been slain by the Telmarines in our first battle. Being unusually wise for a giant, he stood on the outskirts of camp when he wept. Therefore, no large tears fell on our fires or others. Two of his sons would go and weep with him at such times. All four of his remaining sons had come with him. Part of me feared we would lose them all during our next confrontation with our enemy.

Herds of horses and centaurs from the surrounding area arrived next. Some of these had also had kin guarding or living in the now conquered villages. There were joyful reunions between those whose were alive and solemn news delivered to those who kin were not with us.

As we waited, others came from farther afield. My first understanding of the trouble we faced came with the arrival of the black dwarves from the western mountains. I had expected them to come in mass, but only the heads of their clans arrived. Their chief leader rode up on a small, dumb donkey holding his head up like a king. They brought weapons, but by the sparks in their eyes I suspected they had more wish to use them on me than the Telmarines.

I met with them in my tent. Even when the plates of food we had provided for them sat empty, not a muscle in their tightened frames had relaxed. I tried to keep my own form lax. Saphyra tells me it is never lax, but I was careful to make sure it did not seem stone in those moments. The head-dwarf squinted his obsidian-black eyes at me as he broke the silence. "Was it not this last summer you told all these Telmarines would cause us no trouble?"

I kept my voice even, but it was also cold. "I was mistaken."

"And how can we be certain you are not mistaken now?"

I barely kept my tail from lashing. "My fellow survivors can attest to the threat we now face."

Another of the dwarves sniffed. "There's not many of them"

Another added. "And they're all your own soldiers."

I pierced him with my gaze. "The former fact should convince you of the threat."

Another shook his head. "The threat is to farmers, not miners. Tis grain these Telmarines want, not ore."

"But you also need grain, and eventually these Telmarines will want ore to replace the weapons and tools they break gaining it."

"Maybe they will pay better for it and grow more grain that ye."

I shook my head. "They will just as likely take your ore as they took this grain. They have no respect for any Narnians, Beasts, centaurs, or dwarves. They intend to take the whole of Narnia for themselves after they have slain us all."

One black dwarf clutched his battle-ax tighter. A smirk appeared beneath his soot-dark beard. "Maybe they will find it harder to take from us in our own mines."

Another muttered from beneath his greying beard. "The will certainly find it harder there than here in the open."

One of my lieutenants, Vice-jaw the war-hound, growled from my left side. "Making excuses to hide in your tunnels rather than face the enemy alongside fellow soldiers. Are you Narnians or disloyal cowards?"

I raised my left hand and then lowered it slowly. Vice-jaw fell silent. I looked back to the dwarves. "As Narnians, you and your folk have a duty to defend Narnia."

"We had a duty to the kings and queens of Narnia. You are not even on the counsel."

"Members of the counsel are here." I nodded to their Chief-dwarf. "And the counsel gave me leave to make decisions in times of war and in the event of invasion."

"We have not been invaded yet. The northern farms are not Narnia proper."

"They were part of what The High King took back from the moorland giants and remnants of the witch's forces. They were the homes of your fellow Narnians gathered here. We need your bows, axes, swords, and forges with us to defeat these foes."

"Ah, but do we need to face them?"

Vice-jaw growled again. I stomped one hoof and flicked my tail, but kept my face impassive. "Have you no respect left for your duty to your fellow Narnians?"

"Is there really a Narnia when there is not a single King or Queen of Narnia?"

I deepened my voice. "Aslan is King of Narnia and ever will be. It is to Him you owe your ultimate allegiance."

"As to that, He said a man should rule Narnians, not a centaur."

Another dwarf spoke up. "In that case we owe the Telmarines our allegiance more than we owe it to you."

I began to lose my temper. My right hoof stomped the turf. My left took a step forward. My tail lashed my flanks behind me. "They will not have or accept it. They consider us monsters to be slain and driven out."

"What of it? You and your kind drove out and slew some of our people at the end of the long winter."

"We had to purge ourselves of those who sided with the witch and refused to be redeemed by Aslan."

"Again you appeal to Aslan, but where is He to bless this battle or war for you?"

Their Chief nodded. "Tell us when He does come to do so and we shall return. Until then, why should we make ourselves part of this. The counsel has not often listened to us. Why should we listen to the counsel or their general?"

And so he rose, and the others rose with them and they left the tent. I went to stand in the doorway after they had departed through it. Though it was night, they began the long journey back sixteen surrounding the donkey carrying their leader, four on each side, those before walked first where the beast would follow so the mount would not trip.

I shook in rage as they left. My fingers twitched to hold my sword. Images of myself pursuing and slaughtering them entered my mind. I shook my head to clear these away. Vice-jaw was growling beside me. Again I raised a calming hand.

There was a swish of canvas from behind me as someone entered through the other doorway. A familiar voice sounded behind me. "General?

I turned. A centaur with golden hair and beard stood behind me. I sighed in relief. "Gold-cloud."

"I am here old friend."

He approached. I went to him, but caught his gaze as he reached out to lock arms with me. I paused. He noted my hesitation and drew back his own hands while continuing to meet my gaze. Pain and reluctance glinted in the dark centers of his blue eyes.

My voice lowered and flattened. "What is wrong prophet?"

"I have ... instructions I must share with the others."

"From Aslan?" He swallowed, but did not reply. I stamped my hoof a third time that day. "Speak prophet. May Aslan deal with you, be it ever so severely if you with-hold his words from me."

"I … saw things, and heard his voice. I saw Beasts and other creatures fleeing from the forests, and the fields, and the villages. His voice echoed over them. 'Flee south and west. A time of great suffering has come, but your descendants will return and repossess the land.' Then I saw Him standing on a hill in the center of Narnia, and He looked to the north and spoke to the lines and lines of soldiers there standing ready to receive your commands as you stood before them. He said, 'Stand firm and guard those who flee, but look not to the walls of Cair Paravel alone for safety, for they will fall."

I froze. I tried to let the news settle within me. I waited for the words to take root, to make sense. They wouldn't. They slid off me like rain leaving only a chill. I shivered. Then, I said the only thing I could think to speak. "What else did he say?"

"There was nothing else."

I froze. Then I backed away a step. Both Storm-hoof and Vice-jaw had gone still and silent behind me. I looked over my shoulder at them. "Lieutenants, go and see the others are following our commands to the best or their abilities."

They nodded. Storm-hoof looked almost impassive. The loose folds of Vice-jaw's face drooped lower than usual. They both heeded my order and left Gold-cloud and I alone. I almost began to shake, but spoke instead. I heard me voice as a hoarse whisper. _"Why? Have we done something wrong?"_

Golden-cloud shrugged. "He did not say. But know this my friend. Even knowing all this I still will follow you to the death as you would have followed King Peter. However, I must and will speak to the messengers." He raised his arm straight out toward the southwest and pointed. The common people should all leave while they can, whoever can. But I am a warrior. I will follow you as well. I have confidence you will lead us to an honorable defeat even if victory is beyond your reach."

I swallowed and nodded. My voice sounded tight as the skin of a drum, stilted as marching legs. "I thank you for your confidence." Then I turned and rested the knuckles of my hand upon the top of the table and stared at the pieces I had assembled to think through strategy. _Why?_

**If you liked something, please tell me. If you didn't like something, you can tell me that too. **

**God Bless**

**ScribeofHeroes**


	6. Chapter 6

**I neither own, nor created Narnia, The Shribble, or Peter or Edmund Pevensie. C. S. Lewis did and I am forever grateful. I also did not create Oreius from the 2005 movie adaption of C. S. Lewis' "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe." I'm not sure who did that, but I am grateful to them too.**

**This story is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained.**

My stomach constricted like hands throttling a throat. I always felt so before battle. This time was worse than usual. The odds taunted me.

_Numbers do not win a battle._

The words I once spoke to Prince Peter echoed through my own mind now. I could not decide if I wished him at my side. The High King's sword, skill, and magnificence were much missed by I and every soldier with me. King Edmund's cunning and loyalty would also have been welcome as well.

I stood several dozen lengths south of the Shribble. Thousands of fully armored men with spears, swords, and catapults advanced upon us. A few hundred soldiers cobbled together from those brave, true, and still confident in my leadership had come to slow them.

Was I truly sorry my kings were not here to witness this? Was it not a great blessing for they and the queens to not see Narnia's end? Yes, but I missed them all still.

Like a flood of ants from a disturbed mound of dirt the Telmarines advanced. Line by line, rank by rank, file by file the sons of Adam marched. They stepped together one, two, one, two like sticks striking a drum. A tan cloud rose from the earth beneath and around them. Watching this mass advance upon us, I recalled prince Peter's reply to my voiced encouragement.

_No, but I bet they help._

I sincerely longed for that help now. My hands wished to tremble. I forced them to rest upon the hilts of my twin swords instead. Behind me stood soldiers of many kinds. My fellow centaurs, including Storm-hoof and Saphyra were to my right and behind. I hadn't wanted my sister here. I hadn't truly wanted here husband with us either, but there were too few soldiers to show favoritism now.

To my left and far behind stood giants. Before them were others also hard to hide; Horses, Bulls, Bears, Elk and Stags. On a slight ridge to the east, kneeling so as not to be seen, were the archers, mostly Red-dwarves, unaccompanied and unaided by their Black-dwarf kin. I kept myself from stomping a hoof at the memory of the latter.

We who formed the front line stood and waited on the opposite side of the Shribble. The river ran so low it was a trickle over soft mud and around mostly dry stones. We Narnians would stand and wait for our foes to cross this boundary.

Waiting is hard in its own way. One cannot let the mind fly free to other places, even other duties. Nor can one let the body follow the mind. The tension between a mind meeting your enemy and a body remaining far from them can draw tight the nerves. They stretch like a bowstring or the skin of a war-drum. The sun had noticeably moved in her journey across the sky before the Telmarine force, long in sight, paused alongside the edge of the Shribble.

I thought I could recognize their general. His armor was slightly different, almost gold tinged. He rode their only horse a little before the front line. I could have signaled the archers to cut him down, but I waited. Later they would keep back reinforcements, if our enemies crossed at all.

Their leader pulled his stallion up just before the horse's hooves touched the riverbed's dry sand. He stared across the grass at me. The yellowed blades and stalks obscuring my legs and horse-chest rustled in the slight breeze.

Then the son of Adam touched his spurs to the dumb-beast's flanks. It stepped into the sand. Then it tramped over the dry stones and mud. Now his soldiers behind him likewise stepped into the sand leaving deep prints as the sediment clung to their boots. Still, I, and those behind me, simply stood.

Now their general had crossed. I and those behind me remained still. His first line of soldiers had crossed. We stayed the same. Five lines had crossed, now ten. Now he and I were so close he could see my face. I could see his brown eyes through the holes in his metal mask.

They squinted at me. Then he pulled up his horse and held up a hand. One of his seconds shouted. The shout was repeated down the lines. His soldiers stopped nearly as one. Almost, there was a little stumbling in the lines further back, a little colliding, a little confusion. It would have to be enough.

I opened my mouth. "NOW!"

Two Hawk from either end of the front line took off. They rose in the air and swept along the flanks of the enemy's advance column shrieking as my own shout began to fade. The dry grass on either side of the Telmarines moved.

Whole swaths twitched and bent. The movement rolled up to the column's flanks like waves to the shore. Heads of satyrs and fauns appeared above the tufts along with spears hurled into the lines of men. Tigers, Leopards, even some Lions leapt after these spears. They tackled Telmarine soldiers to the hard-baked ground. Red-dwarves rushed forth and swung axes and mallets of iron at enemy knees.

The Telmarine general had turned his head to glimpse the chaos this was creating in his lines. I raised my voice again. "Forward!"

Another hawk left it's perch on Storm-hoof's arm to glide over the lines of soldiers behind me and shriek the signal to follow. All had weapons drawn moments after I drew my own. We sprang forward.

My hooves rushed toward my "once-friend" as he looked back at me with widened eyes. I kept my mask of impassiveness in place until his brows lowered. I let mine do the same and shouted "For Narnia! And for Aslan!"

I swept a blade at his head. He ducked and shied away along with his horse. He brought his sword up to parry my second strike. Vice-jaw rushed past me at a soldier coming to his general's aide. The Mastiff knocked the man off his feet. As the Telmarine landed on the hard earth upon his back a spear took Vice-jaw in the side. I only saw this from a corner of my eyes and heard his yipe. Then I had to turn my back to keep the general in sight.

He glared at me. I glared back. Then I swung my sword down at his arm. His horse shied away as he drew his arm in to avoid the blow. Then he urged the stallion forward to force me to draw back. Saphyra and Storm-hoof were keeping others from interfering in our fight. They both held spears of their own, though swords were also strapped to their backs. Storm-hoof drew his without letting go of his spear.

I could hear a horn blown, likely the signal for the second column of Telmarines to cross the river and join the fight. I smirked at my foe. His eyes crinkled in confusion. I heard a Hawk shriek from over the hill to our right. I did not need to hear or see the arrows whizzing through the air to know they turned the Shribble's mud scarlet.

We battled on. I could tell by the glint in his eyes and aggression in his movements, my foe did not know why his reinforcements had not yet come. Many of my soldiers were falling, but so were many of his. Both of our companies were dwindling.

Then a Hawk gave a mournful cry. Over the heads of our foes, I saw a missile fall upon the crest of the hill where the archers must have been running low on arrows. It raced through my mind we must have given our people some hours to evacuate the lands around us. I expected to hear the sound of rock slamming against earth along with some screams. But the thud was neither so loud nor so deep as I expected. Then a cloud a color I did not expect arose and then . . . a flash, a flame.

The horror must have been so apparent on my face, even my enemy turned to look. Already black smoke was rising from the hill. Now screams were coming from it. We both gave shouts to draw back. He raised a horn to his lips. I looked up to see a Hawk studying my face as it wheeled above me. I don't know if she heard me or only read my lips, but her call was correct. "Retreat."

The smoke blew down the hill and began to blind both forces as we drew apart. I turned mine to the south and east. He turned his north back across the Shribble, where his people might stumble upon their wounded and dying fellows in the stream which must have flowed more swiftly now. Would they be able to see and hear them enough in the smoke to pick up the wounded and carry them back? Would any on our side be able to do so with ours? Who had been mad enough to risk starting a fire here?

However it came to be the, the fire might have saved at least some of my force. We had skirted and came up behind and upwind of the blaze. Not many of the Beasts survived, especially not the large ones. They never wore armor and the enemy had many spears.

Some of those who did wear armor and carried spears of their own, as well as swords, did survive. Fellow centaurs, satyrs, and fauns fled with me. Even many of the giants came with us. The catapults had been kept in reserve until the first volley upon the hill ended the battle. Dwarves also caught up to us as we slowed and finally stopped for the night.

A few of these late arrivals were those who had been stationed on the hill. Most of them had burns of their faces and hands. Not all of these were the kind made by fire. As healers treated them, these dwarves spoke of the strange cloud that had erupted from the mysterious missile flung at them from the catapult. They told how it caused an irritation like Fireweed, but much, much worse. The irritant blinded all in its wake wringing screams from stout soldiers. These dwarves who had worked with many dangerous things had never seen nor smelled nor felt the like before. Somehow though, they were certain it was partially responsible for the fire.

I was weary from battle, yet still remained standing and awake as the sun set and stars came out. The other general had seemed as startled as I. He and his men had been as endangered by the blaze as us. Someone else on the northern side of the river with the reserve troops had made the decision. It was obviously an attempt to rid themselves of our archers holding them back, but it may have cost them their own men and leader. Had they never tried the tactic when their surroundings were so dry? Had they not known or at least underestimated the danger? Had their general and some of his people escaped like us? Had they not? I didn't know how I felt about either possibility.

What I did know was this, neither of my kings would have knowingly endangered the other that way, nor would I have done such a thing to them, nor they to I or any of our captains. My enemy's people had seemed so loyal to him. The attack showed cunning, strategy, and knowledge. If the one who had ordered it had known the risk though, it had also shown a lack of loyalty to the few, to the one.

The next morning the Eagle in charge of scouting for us came back after his morning flight with a frustrated shriek. Then he landed before me. He looked up at me with eyes that usually looked as though they were scowling. They looked even more so now. "He lives."

I did not have to ask who this "he" was. Instead I asked, "What has he commanded his force to do?"

"They march. They march upwind and alongside the fire now sweeping down through Narnia, taking fields, and trees, and all in its wake. All who have not evacuated according to your orders are fleeing or fighting it, but with no water . . ."

I help up my hand to stop the flow of his words, now coming from a choked throat. "I know. We are cut off from them by the same blaze. I have already sent every Bird we have but you to spread word of the danger and need far and wide. But what does our enemy do?"

The Eagle now looked annoyed. "They march! East, through the northern moors again."

My brows rose. "Straight east?"

The Eagle nodded. Now, for the first time in days, a corner of my mouth turned up. "Let us go out before them then." I looked up from him and stared into the smoke-veiled distance, planning rather than seeing. "Gather smaller Beasts trained in war along the way. Tell them to meet us in the Marshes."

**Reviews are much appreciated and often responded to.**

**God Bless**

**ScribeofHeroes**


End file.
